


Sterek drabbles

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bottom Derek, Canon Divergence, Closets, Come Marking, Comeplay, Concerts, Dancing, Dating, Demon!Stiles, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Fae Stiles, Fantasy, Fluff and Smut, Forehead Kisses, Humor, Insecure Derek, Jealousy, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Making Out, Marking, Married Life, Meeting the Parents, Mild Blood, Multi, Oral Sex, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Prompt Fill, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Siblings, Tumblr Prompt, Werewolf Hales, as in 17, implied Dennifer - Freeform, mild choking, stiles is underage in some of these, temporary(?) amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:49:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 17,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Sterek drabbles. Ratings vary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Based off this gif](http://castitasvirtus.tumblr.com/post/36962218752)

It’s too quiet between them, around them. Stiles can hear every damned beat of his heart, the ragged edge to his breathing, the wet slide of Derek’s cock sliding in home. Or maybe that was Derek’s breathing that sounds like  he’s ran a couple of laps around town.

"Slow and easy." Derek mumbles against Stiles’ eye, one hand curled tight under the teen’s jaw to hold his head in place. Stiles breathes out, parting his lips in the hopes of catching Derek’s thumb and possibly tasting the older man’s on his tongue.

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know that Derek’s eyes are on him, intent and lust heavy as his hips slide in the final inch with a sharp slap. His fingers ache at the joints, protesting their too tight grip on the wrinkled sheets. But Stiles’ can’t catch his breath much less get his hands to relax.

There is so chance for relaxing when, with every slow-hard-perfect thrust, Derek’s burning his blood, muscles, _brain cells_ by maintaining the torturous pace. “Der-ek!" Stiles pants, feeling his lower back twinge in pain when he arches back too much to catch the werewolf’s attention. “F-faster!"

Derek’s stubble brushes against the side of his forehead, scratching in a burn that tingles for long moments after it happens. “Slow." Derek insists in a hoarse voice, second hand slipping forward to wrap around Stiles’ fist and holding on as he continues. “And easy. Just like how you wanted it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Based off this set](http://boipussy.tumblr.com/post/40287822633). Originally this was a 'imagine who you want' drabble because this made me think of two couples from different fandoms but from TW, it was Sterek.

"Shit!" Derek growls, pulling out of Stiles' clenching hole. Stiles wants to cry out because of the loss, but there’s a firm hand on his hips to hold him in place and stop him from taking Derek back in. It takes a few seconds to understand what the man underneath him has planned and it makes him shiver in delight.

It takes several heavy strokes, which brush teasingly against his ass at every pump, before Derek lets out a groan. The noise was heavy and guttural, sounding like it had been pulled reluctantly out of the man’s _soul_ or something. It makes Stiles cling harder to the man.

The next thing he knows, there’s drops and lines of hot come stripping his back. His cock throbs into the mess that he's already made on Derek’s stomach, aching for another round that he isn’t physically capable of. So all he can do is to just stay in place and enjoy the feeling of being marked.

It gets better when the hand on his hips travels up his side, rough fingertips catching a few small drops that came under them and smearing them into his skin. That makes his hips grind down, a tiny whine falling from his lips, wriggling back when the last drops fall hot on his ass.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some quick demon!stiles that was written for Brii

“Stiles?” Derek questioned, brows furrowing as he stared out into the night. His hand remained frozen on the car door, curled around the handle as he cautiously sniffed the cool air.

The familiar scent of the human was there and yet. “Nice catch, Cujo.” The drawl made his hackles rise, for more than one reason. Stiles would assume that it was the dog reference when it was more because of the sudden scent of sulpher in the air. 

Derek stiffened as the teen all but melted out of the dark shadows, grinning without a care in the world. His lips turned up, a warning growl growing in the back of his throat as Stiles tilted his head and smirked. “Or should I say Lassie? Not too much of a mad dog these days, right?” Something was wrong. So very horribly wrong. Half of him wanted to run, the other half of him wanted to attack Stiles. Both instincts collided and turned to ash when Stiles’ eyes went black as coal. “Or are you?” 

“Lets put that to the test.” Stiles continued breezily, like he wasn’t smelling like death and brimstones. The smirk on the teen’s face was… wicked. In a bad way. It made Derek snarl in reply without meaning too.

Instead of rattling the teen, he only smirked harder as he sauntered forward to stand in front of Derek. There was a shift in the wind, making Stiles’ scent wash over him and growl for a whole new reason. “ _Demon_.” Derek ground out, letting his wolf rise to the surface.

The demon clapped its hands with gleeful sarcasm. “You want a doggie treat for that?” Stiles chirped, carefully stepping around the werewolf so that he remained out of its reach. 

Derek ignored the comments, not interested in following whatever pace this demon was intent on setting. “Let go of him.” He said in a low, dangerous growl. “And I’ll let you live.”

A blink and the oily darkness receeded, leaving light brown eyes staring at him with clear amusement. “You’ll let me live?” The demon mocked, lips turned up into a half smile. “How you gonna do that when I’m in this boy mmm?”

“There are ways.” Derek warned, trying to keep himself from fisting his hands. The claws would dig into palms, making blood drip down onto the pavement. The pain could be a welcome distraction from the red hot anger that was burning through him. But it was also keeping him focused. 

He had vague memories of his parents (or maybe an uncle or aunt) talking to him about demons. Of course, most of those tales were bedtime stories that Derek loved to hear. But that didn’t mean that there wasn’t some element of truth to it right? Derek could clearly remember being told that there were ways to deal with demons.

The demon grinned, looking far too pleased with itself despite the aggressive posturing that Derek was directing at him. “Oh I’ll bet there are, Lassie. I’ll bet there are. _But_.” The sing-song quality to the demon’s voice made Derek grind his teeth together. “Then Stiles here won’t be a happy camper.”

What the hell was _that_ supposed to mean? Derek scowled in his confusion. With an utterly gleeful look, the demon hopped forward, behaving like it was possessing a dainty bird instead of a gangly teenager. “You see…” It purred. “We made a deal, the boy and I. No matter _what_ you try, I’m not going _anywhere_.”

Derek snarled, clawed hands lashing out with the intent of catching the demon in the chest. But it was quicker, dancing away fast enough to miss the brunt of the attack. It tutted while fingering the slash marks on it’s shirt. “Temper, temper." It chided playfully. "Guess there’s still some Cujo in you.”

Headlights swept over them, making both of them turn to the side to eye the car that was pulling up into the parking lot. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around, Hale.” Stiles commented breezily, like he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on Derek’s head.

“Don’t you even-” Derek began, voice rumbling in anger as he ran forward to grab the teen’s arm. But before he could even come close, he heard Scott’s voice calling him. The worried tone made Derek look back at him, a split second distraction. Derek took in his wide eyes and surprised face before turning back towards Stiles.

Who was gone.

Dread turned his stomach to lead and his lungs to ash. “Was that Stiles?” Scott asked, sounding extremely perplexed. “I thought I left him back at his house. Derek? You alright?”

He choked on the sound of a bitter laugh. "No."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> possessiveness is a big kink for me

Stiles tugged Derek’s head back, fingers tight in the dark hair that was just long enough to get a good grip. He used teeth, spit and tongue to mark Derek’s skin as best as he possibly could, enjoying the grunts that it made the older man let out in response.

Most people assumed that Derek was the posessive one in the relationship - and they’d be right in that assumption. _However_ , what no one seemed to get, and Stiles was completely alright with this, was that **he** was just as posessive as well. 

If Derek toed the line that marked out what constitued as good sense then Stiles was right there with him on that line. Besides, who said that the werewolf was the only one who could have a monopoly on posessiveness anyways?

"My Alpha." Stiles purred throatily against the _huge_ hickey he had sucked and bite into Derek’s throat, muscles contracting around the man’s cock, legs squeezing the older man tighter against him. The dark bruise was already fading before his eyes, melting into unmarked tanned skin as Derek shuddered over him. Stiles could feel the shivers as easily as he could feel the _noises_ growing, rumbling in Derek’s chest. It made him lick a line up the taunt neck and whisper again. " **MY** Alpha."


	5. Chapter 5

He knows that he should cherish Stiles because isn’t that what you’re supposed to do with the people you love? You’re supposed to keep them close, hold them gently and make damn sure that they know what they mean to you. 

Derek thinks that getting 2 out of 3 right is good enough because gentle is something that… he kind of fails at doing. It’s not for a lack of trying, just to be clear. Again, this doesn’t mean that he’s completely ungentle just that sometimes… sometimes, it’s hard to remember to stay gentle.

His hand curls around Stiles’ neck, feeling every damned breath hitch against the bobbing Adam’s apple along with the heat spreading down the younger man’s body. When he feels Stiles’ swallow and choke, Derek's pace falters for a few seconds. It’s hard to focus on keeping up the punishing pace when all he wants to do is push Stiles down and dominate him.

It’s made worse by the fact that Stiles would let him. He would just go down under Derek’s hot palm and take it, moaning shamelessly with that hot look in his eyes. The one that says it's okay to take because Stiles is willing to give him everything and anything Derek wants. There’s a hot-cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, making him all too aware of the sweat clinging to his body and how Stiles’ back is plastered to his front.

“ _Fffffuck_." Stiles drags the word out, stretching it thin as he squeezes his muscles around Derek. It also comes out slightly choked thanks to the grip that Derek has around the teen’s throat. “Harder."

Derek braces himself more firmly on the slipping sheets, knees digging in and spreading wider. The motion forces Stiles’ kneeling stance to widen to an obscene degree that must probably hurt. But the only ache that Derek wants his lover to focus on is the one he's causing in his ass.

His hand forces Stiles’ head further back, until his body is a tense arc, chest out and the back of his head resting against Derek’s shoulder. Derek begins to roll his hips  in a slow slide that’s _meant_ to drive Stiles’ to madness. “Fuck!" Stiles grinds out through clenched teeth, hands coming back to dig into Derek’s sides punishingly. “S-stop treating me l-like I’m gonna break and just  _fuck me!_ ”

It’s a bit like teasing the edge of a sharp knife with his thumb - there’s the danger of being cut but also the cocky confidence that he knows what he’s doing and he won’t be cut. Forget the fact that he’s going to get cut every time and frown at the knife like it’s let him down.

So he moves back until his back is on the bed and Stiles is on spread on top of him, like a pale, warm blanket. Derek noses and mouthes against the tense muscles under his lips, bracing himself by holding onto Stiles' hips before he thrusts up as hard as he can. Stiles lets out a pleased grunt, body squirming back before he begins to work himself back down on Derek.


	6. Chapter 6

The first words that come to Derek’s mind as he watches Stiles move on top of him are ‘sweetly’ and ‘gently’. Which is pretty damned far from actuality because Stiles is far from sweet and gentle, even that under certain circumstances, and rarely with Derek and close to never in the bedroom. 

It would be far more correct to say that Stiles is greedy and sharp, like the curse that falls out of your mouth when you bang your hip into the table corner. He's demanding, coaxing Derek’s initially stiff hands into melting against Stiles’ hips and teasing him into thrusting up as hard as Derek can manage.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kal and I were talking about this idea where in the distant future, where Allison is pregnant (with Scott or Isaac’s kid cause yay OT3) and when she gets really tired of how the boys dote on her in their home, she goes over to the Hale house. cuz at least Derek doesn’t get on her nerves.

Something was up with Derek, that much Allison could tell. But the specifics of it was completely eluding her. It probably had something to do with her pregnancy, seemed like everything in her life did anyways but there were greater chances that it was related to Stiles. But there was the tiny matter of Derek’s eyes continously shifting to her heavy belly in tiny glances which meant that whatever was bothering Derek, wasn't linked to Stiles. Not to mention the way Derek’s hands were twitching every so often on his thighs…

"Something wrong?" She finally asked, turning her head away from the TV to look Derek right in the eye. Might as well take the bull by the horns. Derek seemed surprised at the sudden question and at being caught staring at her. 

Their gaze held for a moment before Derek’s pale eyes ticked down to her large belly. As he ran his tongue over his dry lips, Allison knew what he was going to say before he was going to say it. “Can I…?" He asked hesitantly, voice soft with uncertainity. 

She smiled gently, nodding as she held her hand out for him to take. It took another pause before he accept her offer and let her guide his hand on top of her belly. They both waited, her smaller hand holding his tight against her belly. 

She jerked slightly at the kick against her insides (maybe Scott was onto something about their kid being a soccer player because wow her kidneys and belly were really getting a work out). But not as badly as Derek did. Allison knew that if she hadn’t been holding Derek’s hand firmly in place, his hand would have gone back against his side. 

"Wow." Derek murmured, the corner of his lips turning up into a tiny awed smile. “Good strong kick."

"Good strong baby." Allison corrected him firmly, giving his hand a gentle pat.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this [fanart](http://frecklesandflies.tumblr.com/post/36297104627)

From a strategic and tactical stand point, this is a terrible decision. Derek needs to be at the top of his game if he wants to come out of this alive, to make sure that they  _all_ survive. So hefting Stiles up against him, trembling limbs clinging to his torso, is probably the worst decision that Derek can make.

The stench of Stiles’ blood blocks out every thing else, making bile rise up Derek’s throat. He’s having a hard time hear anything above Stiles’ wheezy breath and his pounding heart. “I can still fight.” The teenager slurs, slick fingers curling against Derek’s back. Derek can feel him raise his gun, the warmed metal leaving behind a sticky sensation that he honestly doesn’t want to think about.

Derek curls his arm protectively around Stiles’ body, frantically wondering how he can make it out of this mess as soon as possible so that he can race Stiles to the nearest hospital. “Shut up, Stiles.” Derek retorts, trying not to think about how the grip that Stiles’ has around his waist is slowly loosening. 

It makes him tighten his hold, knowing that the sudden surge of pain will keep Stiles awake. Sure enough, Stiles grunts and curses, nails scratching against Derek’s back. “Do that again and I’m gonna pop one in your ass.” Stiles grinds out, teeth pressing into the meat of Derek’s shoulder.

The threat makes Derek smile grimly, eyes darting between the alpha twins before he mutters, “I’d like to see you try.” Stiles’ laughs, or huffs breathlessly before he raises his head. Derek doesn’t know what the teenager sees behind him, but it makes him freeze. “What?” Derek asks, fighting the urge to look back for himself.

"I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news," Stiles pants, rolling his shoulders before he carefully attempts to straighten up against Derek’s chest. "But we’re kind of surrounded."

That means that they’ve taken out Isaac and Peter. And Scott’s still on his way to get the Argent’s. Meaning that its one alpha and one wounded teenager against 4 alphas. “I got your back, big guy.” Stiles murmurs, “But if you drop me, I swear I’m not gonna wait for these lunatics to kill you. I’ll do it myself.”

A sharp, amused bark of laughter falls from his lips as he flexes his fingers to show off his bloodied claws. “Same goes for you if you hit me instead of them.” He returns, rolling his neck to the left before he flashes his fangs at the twins and darts forward.


	9. what did you say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Inspired by this lovely gif ](http://sinyhale.tumblr.com/post/53874814510/what-did-you-say-derek-lets-out-a-little)

With his back turned towards Stiles, the words that had shyly hidden underneath his tongue want to come out. They want to tumble out, run to Stiles, sink into him until they lie next to his erratic heartbeat. The pressure that he had felt while looking at Stiles has dissipated now that they aren’t face to face. That makes it easier for Derek to lower his head and whisper, “Thanks.”

Derek didn’t expect Stiles to hear him but hoped that he would. A foolish little hope that was making his own heart race nervously. However, hope wasn’t a concept that he had learned not to nourish - afterall, nothing good came from hoping.

He had hoped that Kate loved him back as much as he her but she hadn’t. He had hoped that Laura would never find out about his role in the fire but she had. He had hoped that Laura was alright on the drive back to Beacon Hills but she wasn’t. He had hoped that he wouldn’t have to kill his only remaining family but had to. He had hoped that his new pack would last but it didn’t. He had hoped that Boyd and Erica would be alright but they weren’t.

Hope was for people who weren’t Derek. It was for people who didn’t taint everything that they touched, people like Scott, Isaac and Stiles. Let them hope and dream of better things. 

Derek had taken a step forward, ready to leave when he heard Stiles ask, “What was that?” The curious lit to his words made Derek halt, heartbeat thudding in his ears as he wondered if for once, his hope hadn’t been misplaced.

But he dared not look back to make sure. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he saw the surprised, happy glint in Stiles honey-dark eyes. Already the breathless tone in which Stiles had said the three words were wrapping themselves around him and holding him prisoner. 

Keeping his eyes locked on the floor, Derek smiled softly. “See you tomorrow, Stiles.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "starthekidd replied to your post: Scott to Isaac in a moment of revelation : “dude youre technically my nephew” and then Isaac stares dead into Scott’s eyes and forlornly whispers “/Uncle Scotty/”"

"DEREK!" Scott’s shrill cry makes the alpha pull his phone away from his ear. "MAKE ISAAC STOP!" 

He tries to hold Stiles back as he tries to clamber over him in a bid to grab the phone, “Izzat Scott?” Stiles asks, trying to pull Derek’s hand away and reaching for the mobile phone with the other. “Lemme talk to him.”

Derek gives Stiles a stern look before tapping the little speaker on the phone. “Better?” He asks Stiles, huffing when the teenager flopped over him on the couch. Scott meanwhile, yells at them to pay attention because apparently ‘Isaac is being an idiot!’

"Calm down Scott" Stiles chortles, rolling his eyes at Derek in a way that speaks of just how often he’s used to Scott’s antics. "What he do?"

"HE KEEPS CALLING ME UNCLE SCOTTY" Scott’s agonized yell is immediately followed by a clank, thud and Isaac yelling, "Only because it’s true!"

Stiles glances up at Derek, Derek returns the confused look before quietly ending the call and turning his phone on silent. He just doesn’t want to know.


	11. Cramped Spaces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Inspired by this beautiful fanart](http://rad-i-cal.tumblr.com/post/52605664365/sterek-sketch-for-a-requester-whose-request-i)

No one had ever told Stiles how cramped a closet could be. Then again, how on Earth could someone bring up that little tit bit into a conversation anyways? Unless of course they were specifically discussing the situation that he was currently in the middle of and frankly, he didn’t want to talk about this with anyone.  
  


Derek was pushing him back against the door, hands moving frantically up and down his back. They skating down his ribs, squeezed his ass before settling on his thighs and pulling him up. Stiles was more than willing to follow the instructions being given to him, gasping in delight into Derek’s mouth when he felt the older man grind their hips together.  
  


“ _Shit_!” Stiles moaned against Derek’s tongue, hand reaching out to just  _grab_ something and hold on. His palm smacked against a shelf, curving into the wood when Derek rolled his hips again and swallowed down the whimper it pulled out.  
  


"You said you’d be quiet." Derek reminded him, teeth and tongue worrying Stiles’ already kiss swollen lips. He just had to give Derek the stink eye for that one because alright, he might have agreed to that but that was only because he had assumed that Derek  _wouldn’t_ be doing all the things that made him want to groan and make other embarrassing noises he didn’t want anyone else to hear.  
  


Curling his right hand into Derek’s shirt, Stiles tried to tug the material off the werewolf’s back as he hissed back. “Then stop being an ass and get to it already!”  
  


"Being bossy won’t get you anywhere." Derek retorted, hips and one hand pinning Stiles to the door before he yanked his shirt off. Stiles grumbled and tried to pull his own shirt off, assuming that Derek would help. But Derek’s hand skittered down to fumble with the jeans, tugging on the button and zip before sliding down under the soft cotton.  
  


Stiles had to bite down on his tongue to hold the curses at bay. His head thunked hard against the door, teeth pressing hard into the soft flesh of his tongue. “Stiles…” Derek’s soft purr tickled his ear, making him shiver hard despite the warm air between them. “Let me hear you.”  
  


That made him grind his teeth and direct a mildly exasperated glance at Derek’s cheek. “T-thought you said we h-oh  _shit_ do that again! had to be  _fuck!_ quiet.” Stiles tightened his legs, squeezing Derek’s hips before trying his best to rock into the hand that was slowly jerking him off.   
  


"I changed my mind." Derek retorted, leaning back slightly when he felt Stiles’ hands sliding down between them and pulling frantically on his jeans. Stiles wasn’t one to look this particular gift horse shoe in the mouth and he showed his appreciation by sticking his hand down Derek’s jeans (no underwear today,  _awesome_ ) and tugging his dick out.  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inspired from [this [nsfw] image](http://25.media.tumblr.com/73a4fdf906915f510adf8b569f739b82/tumblr_mpha2aDucw1raf6iwo1_500.jpg) and Coraline whispering 'Derek' to me

When Derek pushes his head back, turns it into the crumpled blue blanket and inhales, Stiles wonders what he’s thinking. What he's smelling. The werewolf is probably taking in the scent of them that’s soaked into the soft material after so many nights of sharing the bed. Stiles wonders what their shared scent smells like - is it sweat? cum? their shared body wash? colognes? Whatever it is, Derek exhales shakily and slides his hand past his balls.

 

Stiles’ eyes and attention immediately shifts down, pausing momentarily to watch how Derek’s hard cock twitches against his stomach. Then Derek’s finger moves, slides between parted legs to press against his hole. His mouth goes dry at the sight. Stiles forgets how to  _breathe_ as Derek’s middle finger rubs lazy circles around his puckered hole. 

 

The picture that the older man makes on their bed is just… _beautiful_. His body glows in the pale sunlight, a canvas of muscles and shadows that Stiles wants to trace with kisses and tender touches. Derek’s got one arm curled under his neck, head still tilted back. The angle makes it impossible for Stiles to see what kind of  face Derek is making. Stiles can only hazard a guess and dig his fingers into the chair’s arms to stop himself from climbing over Derek and licking the sweat that’s gathering on his chest and hips.

 

"Shit." Derek grunts, the tip of one finger slipping in. Dry. Stiles swallows, feeling like his mouth is filled with sand. Derek  _writhes_ , squirming against the blanket and wrinkled sheets as he pushes the finger in deeper. There’s pre-come dribbling over one sharp hipbone and Stiles wants to suggest that Derek use that to make the penetration easier.

 

Then Derek takes his hand out from its hiding place behind his head. It immediately wraps around the thick erection, thumb spreading the wetness all over the glans. Stiles whimpers, mouth watering suddenly as he recalls the taste and feel of Derek on his tongue. His cock strains against the cotton holding it in, jerking when their eyes meet over Derek’s body.

 

Derek looks like his best wet dream come true and Stiles is certain that the man knows this. “Derek…” Stiles moans pitifully, wanting permission to touch and taste instead of just look and wait. The older man hums, eyes fluttering dangerous as his hands begin to move faster.

 

Stiles wants it to be his finger pumping inside of Derek, stretching him open. Wants to put his tongue to the same place, lick his way up to the tip of his cock and greedily drink down the wetness dribbling over Derek’s fingers. He wants to take Derek’s hand and suck his fingers clean as he fucks his way inside the werewolf’s ready body. 

 

But Derek simply hums and pushes a second finger in, second hand squeezing the base of his cock. “You’re…”  _killing me, teasing me, evil, perfect_ , Stiles doesn’t know what to say because all his thoughts want to come pouring out of him at the same time. 

 

"I know." Derek replies breathlessly, spreading his legs more to give Stiles an even better view.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Brii said) uh [that gif set](http://haagendazstilinski.tumblr.com/post/54818476439) has got to me, now i can’t stop thinking about stiles constantly caressing derek’s face when they make love.
> 
> /flies into the sun.
> 
> #stiles riding derek with his hands running across his beard#even when they make out he cn’t stop running his fingers against derek’s cheeks#and sometimes he yanks at the man’s hair

Stiles knows that he’s being a mean asshole when he stops bouncing on Derek’s cock and starts to just rock back and forth. That awareness make him grin down at Derek, hands squeezing his impressive pecs before they slide up higher. “Stiles…” Derek grinds out, hands squeezing the back of the teenagers thighs as a warning. But Stiles has something else in mind, thank you very much.

 

As much as Derek vehemently denies it, the man loves being petted. He’s never said it in so many words (or any actually) but his body betrays him. His head tilts into Stiles’ hand when it runs through his hair, his body leans into the long fingers stroking up his sides, he nuzzles into Stiles’ shoulder when the younger man slides their ankles together under the bed.

 

So when Stiles his hands up Derek’s neck, he wants to preen when the older man closes his eyes and tilts his head back. He goes limp, letting Stiles’ hands move him this way and that before his thumbs begin to stroke over his beard. He’s always amazed at how soft the short hairs feel - Stiles always assumed that they’d feel scratchy and rough, but they’re deceptively soft.

 

The urge to purr with happiness bubbles in him. Instead he just strokes harder, fingers teasing the soft skin behind Derek’s ears before sliding into his thick hair. A pleased groan falls out between them, pale eyes flying open as they flash embarrassed pleasure at the noise he’s let out. Stiles grins, squeezes hard around the cock in him before bringing his hands back to cup Derek’s face. 

 

He doesn’t mean to whimper when Derek presses a wet kiss to his thumb as it brushes under his lips, nor when his fingertips are tracing the sharp line of Derek’s jaw. But he does because this is Derek, these are his hands, this is Derek showing that he trusts Stiles enough to let go and do whatever he wants with him and Stiles can’t handle that kind of trust. Not from  _Derek_  of all people.

 

Stiles gives up, curling protectively over Derek’s body as he kisses him hard and fast before groaning, “Derek…” He holds on, cupping the older man’s face so that they gaze stays connected but its not enough. Stiles  _has_ to slide his hands back, push them into Derek’s hair and  _pull_ as he sets a brutal pace.

 

It hurts and stings so good, he says as much against Derek’s lips. The tiny grunts that Derek’s letting out with every sharp, wet smack tells Stiles that he’s feeling it as well. Short nails scratch through sweat damp hair, careless of their own strength. Stiles grins, wide and wicked when Derek’s eyes fly open and half glare at him. “Eyes on me, big guy.” Stiles pants. 

 

"What about my hands?" Derek asks breathlessly, fingers moving up to squeeze Stiles’ ass. His fingertips come so,  _so_ close to where they’re joined that it makes the younger man let out a thin whimper and bury his face into Derek’s neck. “Stiles?” _  
_

He can’t do anything more than rock his hips back and forth, wanting Derek’s fingers touching him, them as he fucks himself stupid. “Do you want me to touch you?” The low question makes Stiles' cock twitch and drip more precome between their stomachs, adding to the already sticky mess there. “Want me to finger you?”

 

"Yes." It costs him everything and nothing to make the hushed confession and it’s completely worth it when Derek’s fingers begin to tease his opening.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> londonwayne asked: Stiles and Derek are frat brothers. (random college au)

Derek watches the new batch of pledges mingle, taking occasional sips of beer from the cup in his hands. While doing so, he notices Stiles making his way to him. It isn’t until they’re standing shoulder to shoulder that the younger man asks, “So, what do you think?” nodding towards the crowd.

 

With a tiny grunt, Derek responds, “Could be worse. Could be like last year.”

 

He smirks at the indignant squawk Stiles makes. “ _Excuse_ you!” He punches Derek’s arm. “We were an  _awesome_ batch!”

 

"Whatever makes you sleep at night Stiles." Derek replies, wrapping an arm around the younger man, pretending that he’s doing so just to avoid being punched again.

 

Stiles grumbles under his breath, stealing Derek’s cup from him. The music washes over them, loud and overbearing as always.

 

"No one’s caught your eye then?" Stiles asks after a minute, bopping his head slightly to the song. Derek feels a warm palm sliding up his spine, teasingly pulling his shirt along with. "No one you wanna use the paddle with?" 

 

Derek pinches Stiles’ side, lips twitching at the yelp the sophmore lets out. “Keep it up and I’ll be using it on you.  _Again_.”

 

"You’re a mean bastard." Stiles complains peevishly. " _And_ you don’t have a sense of humor.”

 

"Sure I do." Derek retorts almost immediately, stealing his beer back. "I’m dating you aren’t I?"

 

Stiles rolls his eyes before deadpanning “You’re a regular comedian.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> werewolfparade asked: Prompt: Derek gets jealous of Lydia because she spends a lot of time with Stiles.

There are some things in his life that Derek knows will always hold true: His Uncle will always be a sassy pain in his ass, things more than always will go pear shaped and Stiles loves him. The last one is one of those things that Stiles has all but hammered into him. It’s a truth in his world, indisputable and unquestionable.

 

But it doesn’t stop him from feeling jealous and a tiny bit insecure whenever Stiles talks to and/or spends time with Lydia. After all, Stiles has known her, loved her longer than he’s known Derek.

 

Derek is well aware that it’s a little irrational to feel jealous over Stiles’ friendship with the girl. It’s just that sometimes, too often if he’s honest, Derek begins to doubt. The dark tendrils of ‘maybe’ slide in through the cracks and twist around him, making it hard for him to breathe.

 

Maybe Stiles would be better off with Lydia. Maybe Stiles isn’t that comfortable around him which is why he spends more time with Lydia. Maybe Stiles is just compromising.

 

A thousand possibilities, an endless sea of worries to drown in. “You alright there?” Stiles asks, tilting his head up from where it’s pressing into Derek’s arm. They’re seated on the Stilinski sofa, trying to watch some movie that Derek’s barely paid any attention too.

 

"Fine." He responds, giving Stiles’ shoulder a quick squeeze. The answering touch he gets on his knee makes part of his worries float away. “Just fine." Derek repeats, pressing his mouth into Stiles’ hair and breathing in his scent.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> werewolfparade asked: Prompt: Sterek + Sunday breakfasts

"But it’s Sunday!" Stiles whines, staring into the fridge as though it’s betrayed him. “We’re supposed to have waffles on Sunday! How can we not have eggs!?" Derek sighs as his boyfriend sticks his head further into the fridge, as though a more thorough search is going to reveal an egg or three hidden in some corner. “Deeerreeekkk!" Stiles moans pitifully. “Waffles!"

 

Derek comes up behind, pulls Stiles out of the fridge and firmly shuts the door. “It’s just waffles.” He says sternly. “We can go out and get some.”

 

Stiles makes a disdainful face, crossing his arms to look twice as unhappy as before. “But they won’t be the same! Your waffles taste better than anyone else’s!” Derek would hope so, they were the only thing he really knew how to make.

 

"We should go and get some eggs and then make waffles.” Stiles declares, eyes already shimmering with determination.

 

With a groan, Derek lets go and watches Stiles walk away to the bedroom. “But then it won’t be breakfast anymore!” Derek points out, eyes on the clock.

 

"Don’t care!" Stiles yells back. “I want my damned waffles! With ice cream!"


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unoffangirls asked: The gang find out Stiles is an active TimKon shipper. Derek is the only one that doesn't laugh. In fact, he's actually quite interested why. Must use (some variation) of the line: "So, if you're the everyday detective Robin type, then who's /your/ Superboy?"

"And  _that’s_ why they belong together!” Stiles finished with a triumphant wave of his hands. He ignored the dazed look that Scott was giving the coffee table because okay, his best friend had heard this argument before. Isaac however, looked flat out bored and wasn’t even pretending otherwise. Go figure that Derek was the one who had listened to him ramble about why Tim Drake and Kon-el totally belonged together and should retire to a Hawaiian beach house at the end of their careers.

 

"I can see that." Derek said, nodding slightly. "I’ve been out of touch for a few years but I’ve read some of the older titles and it  _does_ make sense.”

 

Stiles punched Scott in the arm, making the other teenager flail and fall of the sofa. “Ha! See! Told you so!”

 

"I so don’t care right now dude." Scott grumbled, prompting a similar comment from Isaac. Stiles turned his nose up at the pair, grumbling about how some people just can’t tell what at true romance was like.

 

He turned his attention back to Derek, who was giving Stiles a hard, contemplative look. “What?” Stiles asked defensively, looking down at his shirt to check if there was something stuck there. 

 

"I was just wondering." Derek began. "You’re a lot like Robin."

 

Stiles didn’t whine but he came close to it when he said, “Why can’t I be Batman for once?”

 

Derek ignored him, carrying on as though Stiles hadn’t said anything. “Who would be  _your_ Superboy?”

 

That not only made Stiles’ brain stutter to a halt, it also got Scott to sit up like a shot  _and_ got Isaac to look supremely interested for the first time in over an hour. “I….” Stiles stammered, eyes moving shiftily over the werewolves.

 

Just the way they’re looking at him makes him sweat. Scott and Isaac were sporting eager, evil looks while Derek was looking like he was going to eat him or something. “I…oh!” He pulled his phone out, tapping it a few times before loudly declaring. “My dad wants me home! I gotta run guys, bye!” And just  _bolted_ out to the sounds of Isaac and Scott  cracking up. 

 

He hated his friends some days.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> siobhanhawthorne asked: Cora (or someone else if you want) interrupts a date between Stiles and Derek <3

"Fancy seeing you guys here!" Stiles turned around, blinking in surprise at the sight of Cora walking up to them with a broad smile on her face. “I thought you guys were going out for dinner?"

 

"Dinner and a movie." Stiles corrected her, pointing at the cafe across the street from the cinema. Derek kept his hand on Stiles’ back, nudging him forward when the line moved. “What are you doing here?"

 

Cora waved a hand, like the question was beneath her. “Just running a few errands. Thought I’d say hi.” 

 

There was a moment of awkward silence where Stiles waited for her to actually say ‘Hi’ because was it just him or was something just a tiny bit off about this meeting? “Hi then?” Stiles offered, more than a little puzzled when Cora slapped his back and laughed. 

 

Derek was looking extremely put out, or the food they’d just had wasn’t agreeing with his stomach (Stiles had some trouble telling apart some of his looks). “Cora…” He warned, glaring at her.

 

The girl grinned harder, patting Derek’s back. “Relax already.” 

 

Sighing, Derek pointed at the ticket booth and addressed Stiles. “Why don’t you get the tickets?”

 

"Uuuuh…" Stiles looked between the siblings and shrugged. “Okay, sure." Maybe once they were inside he could get Derek to spill.

 

So distracted was he in buying the tickets, that he completely missed Cora sneaking two condoms and a few packets of lube to her older brother with a sneaky, “You sly dog you.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kamuninikko asked: Sterek: Stiles saying "Oh! Put a shirt on before you poke somebody's eyes out!"

Normally, Stiles would be the first person to encourage his husband to take his shirt off. But right now? Nope, he wants Derek to put on his thickest, bulkiest winter coat and keep it  _on_.

 

"You’re  _so_ lucky.” One of the housewife sighs into her drink. “My Paul stopped caring about how he looked years ago.” There are several murmurs of agreement before someone else pipes up that Stiles must enjoy the view a lot.

 

"Only every day." Stiles admits because its no skin off his nose to admit that little detail. He really loves waking up to the sight of Derek in their bed, loves watching him walk away towards the bedroom, walking towards him with a cup of coffee hand, loves watching him glare at the TV when his favorite team is loosing… 

 

There a pained groan from the left side that pulls Stiles out of memory lane. “Look at him!” Jill complains, pointing at the man. “Married for 5 years and he  _still_ acts like he’s in the honeymoon stage.” He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that that’s actually a running joke with the pack as well.

 

"Can you blame him when he’s got a guy like that?" Mary points out. Which makes everyone look back at Derek manning the grill, wearing nothing but a pair of dark jeans that show off his pert ass and a sheen of sweat.

 

The collective dreamy sigh that the housewives let out push Stiles into action. He gives them all a polite smile before making his way through the crowd (This was the last time they were hosting the annual neighbourhood picnic!). As soon as he was within earshot, Stiles hissed at Derek, “Put a shirt on before you poke somebody’s eyes out!”

 

The dark haired man raised an unimpressed eyebrow, tongs poking the steak being grilled. “Why? It’s too hot for that.” Which was  _such_ a fucking lie because Stiles still remembered the way Derek would walk around town in summer wearing that stupid leather jacket of his. Stupid werewolves and their weird internal temperature control.

 

"In case you haven’t noticed." Stiles hip checked his husband, making a grab for the tongs as he did so. "There’s a higher chance of someone overheating cause of the way you look than the temperature." He nodded back towards the group he had left behind before giving Derek another little push towards the house. "Shirt or no 4th of July sex."

 

Derek snorted, pressing his delightfully sweaty and toned body up against Stiles’ side before kissing his forehead. “Well when you put it like that.” He chuckled quietly. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ronstoppableismypatronus asked: Stiles tries to make the perfect s'more for Derek

It’s probably attempt number 17. Derek says probably because somewhere between Stiles cursing a blue streak at dropping a marshmallow into the fire and accidentally sitting down on the packet of crackers, Derek had lost count. He’s reasonably certain that it’s Stiles’ 17th attempt at ‘the perfect s’more’. 

 

"Stiles…" Derek began,  _again_. Honestly, he’d had more than enough smores and they all tasted perfect to him.

 

But his boyfriend was crouched over the fire, a manic gleam in his eyes as he slowly rotated the marshmallow over the fire. “I’ve almost got it! This is gonna be the one!”

 

With a sigh, Derek reached over to curl his hand over Stiles. “Stiles.” He declared firmly, ignoring the pained whine the teenager let out. “If I have one more smore, I’m going to throw up.”

 

Going overboard by a tiny degree? Maybe. But Derek really didn’t want to have one more smore for at least a month. Or chocolate. Or marshmallows. Even with his sweet tooth, being fed so many smores was just too much for him.

 

Stiles blinked at him before snorting into his hand. “That rhymed.” He pointed out, ducking his head bashfully. “Sorry. Guess I went overboard.”

 

"Just a bit." Derek commented dryly, tugging the marshmallow out of Stiles hand before picking up a cube of chocolate and holding it close to the fire so that it would melt slightly.

 

While Stiles grumbled about there was no such thing as having too many smores (Derek firmly declaring that no, no there WAS such a thing), Derek put together one last treat and offered it to Stiles. He smiled at the pleased twinkle in Stiles’ eyes as he accepted.

 

And was immediately bowled over when he popped the whole thing into his mouth and exclaimed, “ _That was it!_ " Derek nearly fell down onto the sand when Stiles pounced him and began to bombard him with questions on ‘How the hell did you  _do that_? I’ve been trying to get it right  _all night!_  You’ve been holding out on me dude!’


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [The tags of this post. That is all.](http://roadtodatingtylerhoechlinlog.tumblr.com/post/55277790077)

Giving in has never been this easy. Derek lets himself be pushed against the wall, body heavy with lust. His legs feel weak when sly fingers tug on his jeans, a low voice grumbling slightly as they fight with the button and zipper.

 

When he feels cool air and warm fingers pull him out of his underwear, Derek closes his head and smacks his head into the wall. “Easy.” The word floats up, warm and amused. “Don’t want to hurt yourself now do you?” He’s not averse to that actually but Derek doesn’t get the chance to say that because there’s a tight grip around his half hard length and a wet tongue teasing the tip.

 

He pants softly, hands digging into relaxed broad shoulders as they move in a slow cadence below him. “You look so good like this.” The compliment makes Derek’s insides squirm, more so when the next words are whispered against the base of his cock. “So beautiful.”

 

Derek hears his mother’s voice in his ear, telling him that when someone compliments you, you should say thank you. But he can’t find the air or the brain cells to put the two words together. It takes everything in him to just hang on and let go at the same time. 

 

His back slides against the wall, creating a painful friction when his knees finally decide that they can’t stand the pleasurable onslaught anymore. Thankfully, the slight change in position doesn’t deter the hand or mouth. It only encourages them, makes them go all the way down on him and  _swallow_.

 

Derek’s body tenses like a string, hips freezing for a moment before jerking up as he comes. It feels like it goes on forever, his orgasm being stretched out so far that Derek feels like something inside him broke. “S-stop.” Derek finally gasps, entire body trembling. He can’t stop himself from sighing in relief when the warm tongue stops laving at his balls.

 

"Good?" He’s asked. Derek opens his eyes, stares down into the curious, happy brown eyes looking back up at him and nods.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Brii because she was talking a lot about Dylan's dance moves and the need for a sterek fic in the same vein

Derek hates surprises as a general rule. But this? This is good. Finding out that Stiles knows how to move it on the dance floor is a damned good surprise, especially when it gets their hips to grind together with a sweet friction that makes his fingers tighten on Stiles’ hips. He can’t hear Stiles’ quick laugh over the bass beat but he can imagine the sound of it. Derek tugs Stiles’ closer, turning him around so that they’re chest to back and rolls his hips forward. 

 

It takes them a minute to catch the beat just right, Derek following the sweet rocking of Stiles’ hips. A bony hand cards through Derek’s hair, thin lips brushing a soft kiss against the underside of his jaw. Derek sighs against Stiles’ cheek, pressing up tighter against the lean body in front of him. He forgets about everything, everyone around him - enhanced by the feel of Stiles against him. So when Stiles moves away, Derek lets out a pained noise.

 

It takes less than a second for him to miss the feel of Stiles pressed up against him. And same amount of time for Stiles to take hold of his wrist and drag him off the dance floor. “Lets go somewhere quieter.” He says, ignoring Erica’s catcall. “Your place maybe?” Derek blinks, stunned stupid at the insinuation before he’s the one all but dragging Stiles out of the club.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "AU fic where Stiles cracks a joke that Derek looks like a romance novel hero and later finds out oh shit Laura Hale is THE ‘L. Hail’, the really super popular romance novelist and,   
> Stiles “wait, so you’re telling me that all those tall, dark, broody guys in her books-“  
> Lydia “are actually based on Derek”  
> Stiles “….. that is kind of gross and weird”  
> Derek *pops up from behind cause someone’s an eavesdropper of the worst kind*: “its why she does it cause she knows it creeps me out”  
> Stiles spills coffee all over his shirt and yells at Derek to wear a bell or ring a dong next time!"

Stiles splutters, a rush of heat making his cheeks burn. Lydia’s doing her slow eyebrow raise that she only does when disaster is imminent. Derek looks like he’s choking on his own tongue. ” I MEANT GONG!” Stiles yells, trying to raise his hands to make a peaceful gestures but instead winds up slamming them against the table with a loud bang.

 

Lydia jumps and barely manages to avoid the coffee that spills down the table while Derek takes the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat. Stiles stares at the coffee, Lydia, back at Derek’s retreating back, the coffee, his own sticky shirt before whining and covering his face with his hands. 

 

Could this day get any worse?! Lydia’s slow clap makes him peek through his fingers. “He’s never going to ring your dong after that.” She snarks. Stiles knows this and therefore moans into his palms.


	24. What a Wicked Game to Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Based off this NSFW gif](http://24.media.tumblr.com/402d0752d49b41df1f8881e248245505/tumblr_mn6rkjgQHc1qi857wo1_500.gif)

The day is waking up outside and Derek is enjoying two of his more favorite sensations in the world at present: Stiles’ mouth on his dick and his tight hole squeezing down on Derek’s finger.   
  


Derek’s lying on the mountain of pillows that Stiles insists they need because Derek’s apparently a pillow hog. Stiles is curled up next to him, legs tangled with Derek’s but his torso holding Derek’s hips down into the mattress. The position allows both of them the perfect angle to do what they’re doing, namely: Stiles gets to suck Derek off at the same time Derek gets to finger Stiles.  
  


Part of him wants to be impatient and push his finger in deeper, two knuckles deep, pull out and in until Stiles’ hips begin to rock back and forth in a lazy rhythm that match the speed of his bobbing head. But Derek wants to enjoy this early morning surprise, wants to savor the dream-like quality that’s covering them.  
  


Stiles hums, looking sleepy and debauched and perfect when he goes all the way down and chokes on Derek’s cock. The other man’s cock twitches against Derek’s thigh, dribbling precome against the thin hairs there. Stiles comes back up with a gasp, face red in a mix of exertion and lust. His lips are a similar shade when they rub against Derek’s wet cock, catching some foreskin between them in a kiss before letting go.  
  


Leaning more heavily into the pillows, Derek rocks his hips up in a lazy motion that makes his cock drag against Stiles’ mouth. Stiles moans, the warm brush of air making Derek’s cock twitch. “Don’t rush me.” The younger man speaks in a rough voice, hands wrapping around the hard length before him.   
  


"Wouldn’t dream of it." Derek grunts back, wriggling his finger slightly as a reminder before he closes his eyes. He smirks up at no one before pushing the finger in all the way, curling it just  _so_ in a way that makes Stiles’ body shudder. The muttered curse makes Derek feel stupidly proud because that’s all him, he’s responsible for that sound, for that reaction in Stiles.  
  


Clever fingers squeeze his balls, making Derek gasp and open his eyes to glare down at Stiles. Stiles’ answering glare is far more playful when he leans in to lick on tight sack. “You rush me and I’m not gonna let you fuck me.” He warns, fingertips trailing down behind Derek’s balls to stroke the sensitive skin there.  
  


"Liar." Derek retorts breathlessly. He rubs a second finger against Stiles’ entrance, challenging his threat with a tease of his own. The other man groans and curses in the same breath, rubbing his face into Derek’s stomach and hips.  
  


Derek tries not to grin smugly when Stiles goes back to sucking him off. Only this time, it’s easy to tell that there’s a new determination behind his motions. Especially since his hips are now rocking back into Derek’s fingers. 


	25. The Boy in the Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kookielawlyuuki requested “something, ANYTHING, based on that picture of derek and stiles [‘gave you all the high skies but you gave me night’.](http://sinyhale.tumblr.com/post/43458233421/gave-you-all-the-high-skies-but-you-gave-me-night)” aaaaaaand after talking with Kim, this is what I came up with.
> 
> Mirror Verse

There’s a boy in the mirror, Derek is certain of this. At first he’d considered the boy to be nothing more than his imagination working overtime but there’s only so many times you can look into the mirror and think ‘did something just move behind me?’ Especially when you’re all alone in the house.  
  


Derek doesn’t know who he is. Or if he’s even real because how can the boy be real? He’s nothing more than a reflection, one that exists only in this mirror that his mother picked up from a garage sale and hung in his room saying that he needs it.  
  


The first time Derek’s eyes had locked with the boy’s curious-sad-big brown eyes, he’d almost shifted into his beta form in surprise. The boy was pressed against the bedroom door, peeking through the open crack before starting as badly as Derek. For his part, Derek had turned around towards the door with a snarl. And found nothing. Not even a heart beat or a scent to trace.  
  


After that, Derek spent a lot of time staring at the mirror, trying to catch another glimpse of the kid. The one look wasn’t enough to satiate his curiosity. And when he wasn’t staring at his own reflection, Derek poured over the different texts in their library. Laura teased and helped him in equal parts, telling their parents that he’d turned into a peacock who couldn’t stop staring at himself and asking him why the sudden interest in cursed objects.  
  


Derek never replied back to the taunts or the questions, shrugging them both off with ease. Peter’s curiosity was worse and harder to ignore and nothing short of banging the door in his face would get him to shut up. Derek would accept help from his baby sister who couldn’t even talk yet over Peter’s help, thank you very much.  
  


But there wasn’t really anyone he could go to for help. And Derek wasn’t sure how his family would take it if he told them that he was seeing a person in his mirror. A person who, despite how dark his room would be, seemed to glow with a strange inner light. Derek was tempted to describe the teenager as otherworldly. Definitely not human.  
  


There comes a day when Derek is forced to changing his opinion when the boy in the mirror trips over the reflection of Derek’s shoes and faceplants on the floor. Despite the lack of any noise or scent, it’s his first instinct to whip around and look behind him. No one there but his shoes (which haven’t _moved_ ) and the usual mess. But in the mirror, the boy is making faces as he rubs his nose and sits up.  
  


The boy freezes when he realizes that Derek is staring at him from his seat in front of the mirror. He has to be around Derek’s age, somewhere in the neighbourhood of 17-18. He’s got hair like a birds nest and the body of a new born colt, nothing but legs. And he looks completely gobsmacked as he stares at Derek.  
  


"You can see me?" The voice is thin, like the echo of a whisper. It makes Derek feel cold all over because there’s no one else home (He knows this, knows this down to the *bone* but there’s a voice that he doesn’t recognize) and it came from inside the mirror.  
  


Derek gapes unattractively at the boy as he quickly crawls towards his back to stare harder at Derek. “You can SEE me?!” The boy in the mirror yelps, looking more surprised than Derek. “How is that possible?!”  
  


That’s what Derek would like to know too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It started when Kim said “Oh gosh, I have an idea for the last one.So, in it, Stiles and Derek are sort of reflections of each other. Which led to me thinking of an AU where Derek finds Stiles trapped by an enchanted mirror or something. And Stiles can travel from reflective surface to reflective surface.”
> 
> Which reminded of the Doctor’s punishment in ‘The Family of Blood’ and then this fic happened.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt - crankypenguin said: sterek - meeting the parents

Derek twitches when he see’s the Sheriff’s lips part. He’s ready for a number of different questions - “How long have you been seeing my son?” “How long as this been going on?” “You ARE aware that he’s JUST barely 18?” “Just to be clear, you know that you’ve got a 7 year difference between you, right?”. And these are just off the top of his head.

Instead of those or any of the other questions that Derek has prepared answers for, the Sheriff casually asks the werewolf to pass the syrup pot. Derek wants to cry because this has been going on for what feels like  _hours_. Ever since he’s arrived to the Stilinski household, ready for battle and the very worst that the Sheriff can throw at him, all he’s actually faced is a polite, calm demeanour and  _none_ of the parental rage that he had been worried about or that Stiles had been panicking about last night over the phone.

He twitches again when Stiles slams the fork down and points a finger at his father. “ _That’s_ it! What’s with the Mr.Nice Guy routine? You aren’t gonna interrogate him? Us? What’re you playing at?”

Derek wants to know that as well but he figures it’s best for Stiles to grab the horns of this particular bull. He’ll just… focus on staring his waffles down. Much safer. The Sheriff sips his juice, puts the glass down and goes back to cutting up his own waffles. “I’m always a nice guy.”

Peeking up at Stiles across the table, Derek catches the way his left eye is starting to twitch, which is a sure sign that Stiles is rapidly loosing his patience. He dearly wants to reach out and touch the younger man in some way but that… Derek compromises by knocking his boot against Stiles’ foot. Stiles sits down, chair screeching against the floor at the force of it. “I’ve got my eye on you Mister.” Stiles threatens darkly.

The Sheriff smiles serenely and turns to Derek, “So, Derek.” Here it comes. “Favorite baseball team?”

—

"We don’t have to do this." Derek repeats softly as they halt for the fifth time. There’s a pinched expression on Stiles’ face that means that he hates what they’re doing but they have to do it so he’s going to see it through. "We could… come again later. When you’re ready."

Stiles shifts the flowers to his other hand before grabbing Derek’s hand. “I’m ready.” He declares, voice shaking only a bit. Derek squeezes the cold fingers he’s got in his grasp and lets Stiles take the slow lead. He doesn’t look down, not wanting to see the way every other step makes Stiles’ knees wobble just a bit.

They walk through the sweet smelling grass, passing by several headstones until Stiles finally comes to an abrupt stop. Derek looks down at the smooth gray stone and the name etched upon it.

"Hey Mom." Stiles greets in a quiet voice. "I uuh. Sorry for not visiting sooner but I’ve been kinda busy. I’ll tell you about it later." He kneels on the grass, bringing Derek down with him. "I wanna introduce you to someone…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BASICALLY I SEE PAPA STILINSKI BEING A GIANT TROLL AND BEING SUPER NICE TO DEREK AND STILES WHO JUST GET TWITCHIER AND TWITCHER THE LONGER THE MEETING GOES ON UNTIL THEY CRACK LIKE EGGS AND AGREE ON THEIR OWN TO BEHAVE.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he stands in the doorway, Derek watches Stiles aggressively wash the blender. From his viewpoint, it looks clean as it’ll ever get but Stiles is scrubbing at it like it’s personally offended him.  _‘At least he’s not chopping things right now.’_  He thinks wryly to himself.  
  


Deciding that enough is enough, Derek walks over to standing behind Stiles before he slowly slides his arms around the younger man’s waist. Stiles jumps and half turns around, wide eyes narrowing as they realize that it’s just Derek.“Stop doing that.” The teenager huffs, flicking some foam at the werewolf’s face. “I told you to make some noise when you walk around.”  
  


With an unrepentant shrug, Derek rests his chin on Stiles’ shoulder and observes him tackling the mixing bowls. They get the same degree of attention that the other dirty bowls and cutlery have - that is to say, too much. “Stiles.” Derek sighs, hands squeezing Stiles’ waist. “You need to calm down.”  
  


“I am calm!” Stiles replies back in a high voice. “I’m calmer than an oyster sleeping on the sea bed! I’m a cucumber! I am one with ice! There’s no reason for me to not be calm!”  
  


It says something about their relationship that while Derek stares unamused at Stiles’ head, the young man seems to know what kind of expression he’s got on and says, “Don’t look at me like that.”  
  


“You’re over reacting.” Derek replies, taking a step back and to the side so that he can properly look at Stiles. He puts one hand on the younger man’s face, forcing him to meet Derek’s eyes. “It’ll go fine.”  
  


And there’s the panic that Stiles’ has been trying to keep at bay for the better part of the evening. “How the hell are you so calm?” He hisses, hands splashing in the sink. “We’re about to tell my  _Dad_  that we're  _dating_. He might shoot you! He's  _definitely_ going to threaten you!”  
  


Derek raises an eyebrow, wordlessly asking, 'Your point?’. It makes Stiles huff and roll his eyes, head tipping back as well. “Ugh! I don’t get how you can so  _calm_  right now!” The 19 year old complains with a pout.  
  


Smiling slightly, Derek rubs his thumb over Stiles’ cheek before he leans in to press a soft kiss to the man’s forehead. “Because it’s you.” He offers simply, loving the blush that’s rising up Stiles’ neck as a result.  
  


“Smooth talker.” Stiles grumbles, elbowing Derek in the stomach.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is bouncing in place, this close to actually rubbing his hands together in utter glee because he’s actually at a Imagine Dragons concert! How  _cool_ is  _that?!_    
  


He turns to ask Derek this very question, an excited grin on his face, and sees that the werewolf is sticking something in his ear. “Uh, dude?” Stiles asks, wondering if Derek’s got an earache. “You alright?" Derek blinks at him, fingers holding something bright orange between them. Wait a second. "Those are  _not_ earplugs!” Stiles exclaims. “Tell me those are not earplugs.”  
  


Derek looks at the earplug and then Stiles, expression more flat than the ground they’re standing on. “Fine. They’re not earplugs.”  
  


If he gestures so hard that he slaps a girl’s hat off her head, Stiles is blaming it on Derek. “Are you  _kidding_  me?!” He asks, waving his hand at the empty stage in front of them. “We’re at a  _concert_! Imagine Dragons! You do  _not_ wear earplugs at an Imagine Dragon concert! Or any  _other_ concert!” He pauses a moment before adding, “Except if you get dragged to a Justin Bieber concert. That one’s okay.”  
  


The werewolf is still looking at him like he’s tossed a pair of red socks in with the whites again. Completely and utterly unamused. Stiles  _knows_ that he’s basically dragged Derek’s butt to the concert but … “ _Imagine Dragons_ , Derek!” Stiles whines.  
  


Derek sighs, long and hard, like he can’t believe this is his life. He gestures for Stiles to come closer. Stiles obeys immediately. When Derek ducks his head down to whisper in his ear, Stiles has to remind himself that they’re in public and sporting a halfie would be in bad form (and grounds for being permanently banned from ever attending any more concerts).   
  


“Werewolf hearing remember?”, Derek reminds the younger man before standing straight, fingers still holding onto the second plug. “If I don’t wear these then it’ll hurt.”  
  


Ah. Stiles cringes at that. He hadn’t thought about that. “I didn’t think about that.” He replies apologetically. “Are those gonna be enough?”   
  


Derek half shrugs, sticking the second one. “Worked well enough at the Metallica concert.”  
  


Well enough at th- “WHAT?!” Stiles screeches, making several people around them jump in surprise. “ _You’ve seen Metallica live_?!”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is only every so often that a person finds a nugget of information about another person that is so amazing,  _so juicy,_ that they can’t do anything but giggle evilly at the blackmail potential.  And Stiles getting his hands on Derek’s iPod only to discover Cher’s entire discography on it? Was that golden nugget of information.  
  


It’s takes  _weeks_ to prepare for the right opportunity, for that perfect timing when he’ll gleefully reveal to Derek that Stiles  _knows_ about his Cher habit. And it will be fucking  _glorious_. Stiles will be laughing till the day he dies when he pulls this prank off.  
  


When he hears his window being pushed open, Stiles knows that the time has come. “I feel something in the air.” He quotes, spinning around in his chair to watch Derek step in.   
  


The werewolf raises an eyebrow, stares at Stiles and shakes his head. His boyfriend is now used to his odd antics and non-squiturs. It’s a bit of a shame. Stiles kind of misses those confused looks Derek was prone to sporting in the early days of their relationship. But those days didn’t involve heavy making out and getting his hands on Derek’s firm ass so Stiles figures that it all comes out equal in the end.  
  


“Did you find anything?” Derek asks, shrugging his sweater off before he sits down in ‘his’ chair.   
  


“You better sit down kids.” Stiles turns towards his table, plucking up a thick sheaf of papers held together by a heavy clip and drops it in Derek’s lap. “Do you believe in magic?” He asks with a grin.  
  


Derek frowns harder at him, glancing down at the thick stack before looking back up. “Of course I believe in magic. What’s wrong with you today?”  
  


How is Derek missing all these Cher references? He can’t be that dense! He  _isn’t_  that dense! “For what it’s worth, I threw it all away.” Stiles is pushing his own rules of replying only in Cher song titles by putting the two together in one reply. But he figures hey, it’s all good if it makes Derek realize what Stiles is hinting at.  
  


The werewolf leans forward, looking concerned now. “You didn’t hit your head again did you?” Stiles flails in his seat when Derek’s hands grab his face and twists it gently from side to side looking for an injury. “Or fall down the stairs again? I keep telling you to take it easy.”  
  


That was the one time and he was wearing slippery socks! Stiles grumbles, “I got it bad and that ain’t good.”  
  


When Derek looks more bewildered, Stiles just wants to yell at the man because HOW is he not noticing this? Does he have to start  _singing_ the damned songs out? Put on a black wig and a leotard and start shaking his hips going 'Do you believe in life after love’?

 

“Stiles. Are you really okay?" Derek's voice is heavy concern, "You didn’t get cursed by that witch down at the magic shop did you?"   
  


"This God-forsaken day.” Stiles tries once more. But the reference flies over Derek’s head and Stiles just gives up. Almost 3 weeks of learning so many Cher song titles and Derek hasn’t caught a single one of them. Which, what the  _Hell_?  
  


Right when he’s wondering if maybe he should have referenced Cher’s post 90’s songs instead of the earlier era, Derek leans forward towards the desk. “What’s Cora’s iPod doing here?"   
  


Stiles whips his head around so fast that his neck aches, ” _What_?“ He asks.  
  


Derek’s holding the small music player in his hand, waving it at Stiles’ face. "This is Cora’s. She’s been looking everywhere for it. Where did you find it?”  
  


So that was… And the music was. Oh come  _on_. Stiles groans and buries his head in his hands and moans, “It’s a cryin’ shame!”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His boyfriend ( _Lord_ wasn’t that a kick to the balls) is panicking. He’s this close to a full freak out and Derek can’t stop grinning like an idiot. “Do I look okay?” Stiles asks once again, frowning at his own reflection in the visor-mirror as he tugs on his tie. “Should I keep the tie or lose it? Is it too format? It’s too formal, isn’t it? I should take it off.”  


Derek continues to grin as Stiles yanks the tie off, getting half way there before he frowns up at the Hale house before them. “But it’s a proper family dinner and this is you introducing me to your family so it’s a formal thing and formal things involve ties, especially when you’re not wearing a jacket and I’m not wearing a jacket ‘cause I accidentally burnt a hole in it the last time I tried ironing it out. Oh God, I shoulda worn a bow tie.”  


As Stiles pulls the knot back up, for the third time, Derek figures that it’s about time he jumped in. He leans over, flaps Stiles’ hands out of the way and quickly, but gently, adjusts the knot into place before making the younger man look at him. “Calm down.” Derek states firmly, feeling oddly steady despite the enormity of the event. “You need to breathe before you pass out.”  


“Breathing is irrelevant.” Stiles replies nonsensically. “It’s more important that I make a good first impression on your family and if that means not breathing then yeah!”  


Derek rolls his eyes with fond amusement, lightly smacking Stiles’ head with the flat of his palm. “No breathing means you’re not alive, you idiot.”  


Huffing, Stiles reaches out to grab Derek’s wrists and tugs their hands down into his lap. “I’m sorry.” He says, looking at the house and then at Derek with a wry smile. “I’m just… this is  _big_. I’ve never done this before.”  


Lips quirking up into a half smile, Derek turns his hands around to give Stiles’ arms a quick squeeze. “I haven’t either.” The surprised look Stiles gives him makes Derek feel… He doesn’t know how to describe the relieved guilty feeling that he never introduced Kate to his family.  


They had found out about their relationship anyways after her failed attempt to kill his family and Derek wishes sometimes that maybe if he’d told his family sooner then maybe his dad would still be…

 

“Hey.” Stiles’ hands are gripping his arms tightly, a worried look in his brown eyes. “Earth to Derek. No spacing out on me. I need you here with me tonight.”  


Shaking his head, Derek replies, “Trust me, it won’t be as bad you’re imagining it.” Because it really won’t be. His mother already adores Stiles, having done so since Stiles was a child and puttering around the Sheriff's office pretending to help his dad out. Aidan and Laura treat Stiles like he's another one of their younger siblings. And Emmy? Emmy  _adores_ Stiles. And that’s not even mentioning how much Peter’s girls hang on Stiles’ every word. Sure Cora and Stiles don't exactly get along but Derek's confident that might change. Maybe.   


So really, Derek doesn't know what Stiles is worried about. If anything, this dinner is going to be murder on _Derek_. He’s certain that everyone’s going to share terrible stories from his childhood, especially the most embarrassing ones. If at some point, the picture albums don’t come out? He’s going to eat his own leather jacket.   


“You don’t know what I’m imagining.” Stiles replies peevishly, letting go of one hand to flick a finger at Derek’s forehead. “Just let me freak out in peace.”  


Derek glares at the finger, wondering if he snaps at it how many 'bad dog’ jokes he’ll have to stand. “You’ve been freaking out for the whole  _week_.” He points out unhelpfully. “That’s more than enough time to worry.”  


“Don’t try to school my worrying habits. I don’t judge your brooding, sulking  _or_ creeping behaviors.” There’s a choked snort somewhere close to the front door that makes Derek sigh. Of  _course_ someone was eavesdropping on their conversation. Family of werewolves, what could you do.  


Patting Stiles’ hand, Derek pointed at the car door and firmly stated, “You do. And enough worrying, time to face the music.”  


“I really should have worn a bow tie.” Stiles gripes one last time before tumbling out of the Camaro.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Stiles -> Derek + Dennifer implied

It feels like he’s just been in a car accident. One where his car has just collided head on with a tree or a truck and there’s nothing left except a crumpled heap of metal and a world of pain that’s gone all the way down to his bones.   
  


Stiles stares at Isaac, mouth falling open in surprise but it's  _Scott_ who beats him to the punch. “Derek and Ms. _Blake_?” The teenager asks in bewilderment. “When the hell did  _that_ happen?”  
  


The curly haired teenager shrugs, holding his hands up. “You got me. I guess when he took her back home or they met up later?” This won’t do, this simply won't  _do_. This isn’t enough information. Stiles wants more. He want’s every damned little detail he can about this person who has just  _waltzed_ in out of  _nowhere_  and is suddenly Derek’s girlfriend  _overnight_.  
  


Whatever face he’s making, it catches Isaac’s eye and makes him snort, “I know right? It’s really weird imagining Derek being all… boyfriend-like.”  
  


Scott makes a face, an amused frown before he laughs as well. “I totally can’t see that!”  
  


While the pair laugh, Stiles forces himself to laugh as well. The joke of it is that he  _can_ imagine Derek being a boyfriend. He can see Derek being quiet but attentive, pretending that he doesn’t remember the anniversary or important dates when he’s probably been worrying for dates over the perfect gift. He’d also be tender, more because that’s how he wants to be towards his lover rather than being mindful of his claws and strength.  
  


Maybe most of what he imagines Derek to be as a boyfriend is just wishful thinking and fantasies that he’s entertained right before he goes to sleep. But they’re all based off his experiences with the man so that means that there’s a pinch of truth to them right? And the thought that someone else, someone who wasn’t him (who hadn’t been patient, who hadn’t been waiting, who hadn’t been denying themselves for  _months)_  would learn that side of Derek made him want t-  
  


“Stiles?” Scott’s hand falling on his shoulder made the teenager start. He blinks at his best friend and the curious look in his eyes. “You alright?”  
  


He runs his tongue over his dry lips, clearing his throat for good measure before replying, “Yeah. Just fine. I was just… trying to imagine what Derek’d be like. As a boyfriend you know.”  
  


“Not that different from how he is now I guess.” Scott snickers lightly at his comment, offering Isaac his fist for a quick bump before holding it out towards Stiles.   
  


With a weak smile, Stiles bumps his fist back. He’s grateful that the bell rings at that exact moment and that they both have different classes next. Scott slaps his back with a grin, “See you later.” and trots off with Isaac. Leaving Stiles behind to figure out a way to move his leaden body and heavy heart across campus to his class when all he wants to do right now is crumple against the lockers and disappear.  
  


He leans anyways against the cool metal, lightly smacking his head into it as he whispers, “It’s not fair. God dammit, this is totally not fair.” Stiles blinks away the sudden tears, sighing heavily as he does so. 


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Assume that Stiles and Derek are/were a thing during s3 for this. 
> 
> **[Warning:]** for Stiles being underage

Stiles has felt like shit before but coming back after actually dying through drowning? Fucking  **sucks**.

 

0 out of 10, would not recommend, not ever.

 

And what sucks twice as much is the fact that none of them have the time to recuperate either. There's no choice but to tuck this experience in with the other shitty things they've gone through and soldier on. Just keep swimming, as good old Dory would say.   
  


Scrubbing his hand over his face, Stiles sighs and rattles along with the elevator as it pulls to a creaky halt. As he pulls the grates open, Stiles makes a mental note to remind Derek that he’s living in a building whose elevator looks one bad shake away from plummeting to it’s death. That, surely, can’t be a good sign for the over all building integrity.  
  


Despite the fact that he feels like a bag of shit that’s been burned, tossed out an airplane and then run over a few hundred times, Stiles manages to walk in a straight line to Derek’s apartment. Pulling the door open presents a larger challenge given how his arms are pretending to be noodles but, he manages.  
  


Stiles grunts as he pulls the door open just enough to squeeze through. “I hate today.” He complains, eyes wandering around the open space. “Derek?” Stiles calls out in his scratchy voice, wondering if he’ll ever forget the feeling of the cold water hitting his throat so hard that it hurts even now. Will this scratchy sensation ever go away? What was it like to have a not-sore throat? Stiles is finding it hard to remember. “You in here?”  
  


He eyes the couch longingly, remembering how soft and cozy it is. But there’s no time for rest. Later maybe Stiles will come back, drag Derek over to the couch and they’ll snuggle-doze together. He puts a pin in that idea when he hears footsteps.  
  


Stepping forward towards the circular stairway, Stiles feels a tiny bit of tension fall off his shoulders when he realizes that it’s Derek and not Peter coming down. But it just as quickly turns into a hard double take when he sees how gaunt Derek looks. “Jesus!” Stiles hisses, finding strength from God only knew where to rush forward and take the werewolf’s face into his hands. “What the hell happened to you?”  
  


Derek shakes his head, slowly, like the action pains him. “Nothing I didn’t want to.” Stiles may or may not tighten his grip to the point that it makes the werewolf wince. “I healed Cora.” Thank you, that was a better answer.  
  


His hands drop down to grab Derek's wrist. Keeping his grip tight, Stiles drags Derek over to sit on the bed before plopping down next to him. “How?” He asks, gazing searchingly into Derek’s pale eyes.  
  


When the werewolf shakes his head and looks away, dread pools in Stiles’ stomach. It’s like he still has the cold, mistletoe infused water churning around on the inside. The taste of it lingering at the back of his throat. “Derek.” He asks in a voice that’s just shy of quivering. “What did you do?”  
  


Derek’s shoulders slump, giving in before he looks up at Stiles with… Stiles inhales sharply at the sight of the electric blue eyes peering up at him. “Derek…” Was that his voice that sounded so lost and broken. “What did you do?”  
  


“I had to save her.” Derek replies back, the blue fading away to their usual green-hazel combination that Stiles has always found so enchanting. “It was the only way I could. I had to give up alpha powers or else…” Stiles refuses to let Derek finish that sentence, grabbing the man and hugging him as tightly as he could.  
  


Derek leans forward, more like a limp ragdoll than the large man that he is and hides against Stiles’ shoulder with a pained noise. Clenching his teeth together, the teenager shakes his head hard and squeezes Derek. “You saved her right?” He asks in a choked tone. When Derek nods into his neck, Stiles pets his hair and replies in a firm tone, “Then you did good. You did great.”  
  


He pulls back, hand cupping Derek’s face. When their eyes meet, Stiles repeats, “You did good.” The relief that visibly floods the werewolf’s eyes makes him smile woobley and think that he’s done a good thing too.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You've  _got_  to be shitting me.” Stiles declared, glaring at the back of Derek’s head. “Tell me that you’re shitting me or that this is your idea of a bad joke because I can’t believe this is happening.”  
  


The werewolf ignored Stiles’ ranting, continuing to sniff the air and glare around him. Like a pathway would magically appear out of no where and guide them back to the parking lot. “You’re a  _werewolf_  for crying out loud!” Stiles pointed out, “How can you get lost in a forest?! Just smell the way we came from!”  
  


Derek threw a glare back over his shoulder, eyebrows dipping down so much that Stiles was expecting them to touch any second now. “ _Because_  I  _can’t_ catch our scents! Everything’s muddled.  _Like I told you 2 minutes ago_."   
  


Rolling his eyes, the teenager grumbled, "Muddled, my butt, you’re just lost and making excuses."   
  


"I heard that.” Derek retorted. “And it  _is_ muddled. Everything smells the same for some reason.”  
  


Stiles sighed and scratched his head, looking around the small clearing that they’d wandered into. “This is why I kept saying that I needed to pack a compass or a map or something but noooooo.” He gripped, walking over to the nearest tree. "Why listen to the human even when he's got  _good_ ideas."  
  


As Stiles began to examine the bark, Derek asked, “What the hell are you doing?”  
  


“Checking if there’s any moss…” Stiles answered distractedly, moving over to another tree. “Ah! Here we go! This! This side is north!” He pointed to his left with glee.  
  


Derek however was unimpressed with this new information. “And what am I supposed to do with that?” The dry tone made Stiles’ triumph pop like a balloon.  
  


Throwing his hands up in the air, Stiles replied, “I dunno but it’s a start isn’t it! It’s better tha-” He paused and stared behind Derek, blinking at the path that  _definitely_ hadn’t been there before. “Derek. Was that there before?”  
  


“What?” The werewolf asked, turning around to where Stiles was pointing his finger. Stiles quickly scrambled to stand beside Derek so that they both could stare at the new trail that had appeared out of no where. “That wasn’t there before.” Derek muttered, staring distrustfully at the thin path.  
  


As Derek stepped forward, Stiles hurriedly followed as he asked, “It’s gotta be magic right? I mean, things popping up out of nowhere is  _definitely_ magic. Do you smell anything?"   
  


He watched Derek’s face carefully, cataloguing the shifting expressions - cautious, curiosity, bewilderment. "Someone’s baking bread.” Derek frowned in confusion at Stiles. “Gingerbread.”  
  


They both stared at each for a long moment before slowly turning back to look at the trail. “You dont… think…” Stiles asked hesitantly.  
  


“I don't  _want_ to find out.” Derek answered promptly, grabbing Stiles’ by the arm and doing an about face. Stiles was more than happy to be dragged away in the opposite direction.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> kinda unhappy ending?

The people around him have been treating him like he’s a baby or made of glass. Stiles doesn’t know them, or at least, he doesn’t think he knows them. There’s no sense of familiarity going on with any of them, except the person who says that he’s Stiles’ father. But that could be just wishful thinking on his own part, right?  
  


Point is that, they’re all strangers to him. Even if he’s their friend, best friend or whatever else title they might prefer to use. To Stiles? They’re all people he doesn’t know. He doesn’t remember Scott or Lydia or Allison or Jackson or Derek or Isaac or Cora. There’s no memory of them. Or anything else. Not even an inkling or a spark when he interacts with them that makes him think ‘Yes, maybe I was your friend.’  
  


Stiles can only be polite and listen to them tell him stories of all the time that they’ve spent together, of friends long gone and the trials they’ve gone through. And try harder not to feel guilty when he shakes his head, saying 'I’m sorry. That doesn’t ring any bells’, and the other person looks crestfallen.  
  


It’s the worst with Scott and Isaac for some reason. He can understand why Scott would feel hurt because they were best friends. But Isaac? From what Stiles has come to understand, they weren’t ever that close but the blue eyed man seems particularly devastated every time Stiles admits to his non-recollection.  
  


While they seem sad, his father and Allison sport matching looks of resignation and determination that they swing between like a steady pendulum. They both make him feel uncomfortable to be honest. Like he wasn’t right the way he was.  
  


And speaking of that, there was Derek. The man was… intense. From the way he looks, Stiles had honestly expected someone with a harsher demeanour. And while he is brusque and sarcastic, he’s not unkind. Short tempered? Yeah, sometimes. But never unkind. And he's oddly patient with Stiles too. And strangely affected by Stiles’ loss of memory. Enough to make Stiles wonder if they're more than friends. They have to be given the way he catches Derek look at him sometimes.

 

The more time that Stiles spends around these people who claim to be his family, the more he comes to realize that they’re all hurting a lot deeper than he’s realized. It makes the guilt come back full force, like a tsunami sweeping over a beach and taking out everything in its path.   
  


He wants to get his memory back, wants to remember who he was before waking up in the hospital, knowing everything except the people who were most important to him. What kind of stupid amnesia was that anyways? He knew everything there was to know about male circumcision but he couldn’t recall his own mother's  _name_?  
  


So he tries. He tries all kinds of treatments and techniques, something, anything, everything. He even agrees to go meet with the vet for some reason just so that he can drink some murky green liquid that tastes like concentrated toothpaste in the vain hopes that maybe…  
  


Everyone is staring at him while he stares at the empty vial. He looks up at the vet and asks, “How long is this gonna take?” It’s the wrong question to ask because the vet’s expression drops just a touch - going from anticipatory to worried.   
  


It hasn’t worked then. Just like everything else. Stiles has a hard time not crushing the fragile bottle in his fist. Isaac steps in, delicately pulling the glass out of Stiles’ hand before he asks, “Now what?"   
  


"Now we try something else.” Deaton answers, turning back towards his office.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plopping the stray ice cube back into the bucket, Stiles dumped the now empty tray into the sink with a mental note to fill it with water and stick it back in the freezer. Later though. Right now he had a more pressing issue to deal with.  
  


It was strange how muggy the living room was when compared with the rest of the house. Despite the fans running on full and the windows thrown wide open, it was still terribly hot and humid. And unfortunately, it was the coolest room in the house at the moment because the cooling system had gone the way of the dodo.  
  


And Derek was expressing his displeasure over this unfortunate turn of events by lying on the floor on his back, actually panting like a dog. He hadn’t appreciated the joke but had been too tired out to do anything more than weakly kick at Stiles’ ankles. It was kind of adorable but mostly really uncomfortable watching Derek just lie on the floor and sweat so much.  
  


“I got the ice.” Stiles declared, shaking the bowl to make the ice inside rattle cheerfully. He walked to the center of the room where Derek was staring blankly up at the ceiling. “Find anything interesting?” The younger man asked as he sat down on the floor, crossing his legs.  
  


Derek sighed, lethargic and heavy. “Good answer.” Stiles replied glibly, dipping his fingers into the bowl to pick up an ice cube. He gave the blank TV a cursory glance before asking, “Why’d you turn the TV off?”  
  


That got him a grunt and a feeble hand wave. “Jersey Shore.”   
  


“And you couldn’t just change the channel?” Stiles asked, pressing the cold ice cube to Derek’s lips before dragging it over his flushed cheeks. He ignored the drops that rolled down into Derek’s beard, focusing more on quickly sliding the melting ice over the man’s face before moving to his neck.  
  


Derek sighed as he closed his eyes, clearly enjoying the cooling treatment. “Dunno where the remote is. Didn’t wanna get up.” The slurred tone was a good sign. It means that Derek was finally relaxing after a whole morning of being wound up by the heat.  
  


Humming, Stiles smoothed the ice over Derek’s Adam’s apple before sliding it back and forth over his collar bone. “Then how’d you close it?” Stiles asked, a grin already making his lips go up.  
  


With a grunt, Derek nodded at the nearby electrical socket and the cord that had been yanked out. Chuckling to himself, Stiles pressed the sliver of ice to Derek’s lips. “Chew on this.” He instructed, “You’re something else, you know that.”  
  


“I’m over heated. Shut up.” Derek complained through his crunching. “Gimme some more ice.”  
  


With a heavy roll of his eyes, Stiles picked up a second cube while muttering, “Yes, O’ Alpha, my Alpha. Want me to feed you some peeled grapes too?”  
  


“Something cold would be better.” Derek replied dreamily, lashes fluttering against his cheeks when Stiles rubbed the ice against his neck again, "Maybe if you froze the grapes?" Stiles rolled his eyes again and gave Derek’s nipple a sharp tweak.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i went the way of dialogue, sorry for the length)

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“Fuck no.”

“That’s not the way you’re supposed to respond to a ‘pretty please’.”

“Pretty fucking no.”

“Ha ha, look at that, Derek Hale’s got a sense of humor.”

“And you’ve got dishes to do. Get to 'em.”

“About that! How is it my turn? Isn’t it supposed to be your turn this week?”

“I recall a certain someone who traded duties with me for this week because they kept whining about laundry.”

“I do _not_ whine!”

“Dishes, Stiles.”

“Rock, paper, scissors you for 'em?”

“No.”

“Thumb wars?”

“ _Stiles_.”

“But I don’t wanna do the dishes!”

“Whining again?”

“ _No_! Simply expressing my extreme confusion that you don’t have a dishwasher! Why didn’t you include one in the kitchen plans? Every kitchen needs a dish washer, Derek. Especially in a house where one of the inhabitants has sensitive skin that gets all dry and itchy because of the dishwashing liquid.”

“You  _do_ realize that you could have been done with the dishes in the time you’ve complained about them? It’s only a few plates and pots. Not like you have to clean up after a Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Then why don't  _you_ do 'em, if it’s only 'a few plates and pots’.”

“Because it’s your fucking turn to do the dishes, that’s why.”

“For crying out loud!  _I'll_ do the dishes if it’ll get you two to shut up!” _  
_

“Thanks Scott, you’re the best!”


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [This photoset, that is all ](http://missmeeya.tumblr.com/post/59479788841/tootricky-dance-time)

Generally speaking, Stiles thinks that he’s pretty decent at handling the sudden curve balls that life tends to throw his way. Especially if you take into account how things have been after the Darach confrontation thing. But this is just… one surprising thing too many.  
  


Stiles stares at the white cockatiel shuffling and bopping it’s way to and fro on Derek's kitchen counter, clearly dancing to the Enrique Iglesias song playing on the radio. Meanwhile, Derek carrying on like this is the norm. Like it's a part of every day life to have a parrot dancing and whistling in front of him. For his part, the teenager can just point at the bird, then the radio and then Derek before he actually croaks in surprise.  
  


Derek glances up at him, a bland eyebrow raised. “Yes?” He asks dryly, knife paused mid-chop. The cockatiel pauses to look at Stiles as well, its yellow crest rising high, before it does a full turn and returns to it’s dancing.  
  


“You got a pet.” Stiles manages to get out. “A bird. That dances. And sings. What the hell!”  He dances the fine line between an emphatic gesture and a ridiculously exaggerated flail as he points towards the bird.  
  


The werewolf looks at the bird, who is now shuffling side to side to Ke$ha with it’s crest raised up, and shrugs. “He likes listening to the Top 40.” Like that explains it all. Which it  _doesn’t._  
  


The cockatiel lets out a shrill chirp and goes back to doing, what Stiles fancies to be, a bird version of aggressive headbanging while doing a two-step shuffle. “ _A dancing bird,_ Derek!” Stiles repeats loudly. “That explains nothing!”  
  


“You were the one that said that I should get a pet.” Ah, there’s that defensive, half mullish pout. “So I got a bird.”  
  


“That  _dances_!” Stiles repeats because this is  _important_. “Did you teach it how to do the… whatever it’s doing?”  
  


Derek looks at the bird that’s shuffles over to the radio and is now pecking at the dials. “No. It does it on its own.”  
  


“Only you.” Stiles declares, jumping slightly at the angry noise the birds lets out as the radio host talks on about the traffic situation. The bird flaps its wings and flies over to sit on the spice rack. “Did it… did it get pissed that the song ended?”  
  


“Yep.”  
  


“ _Weird_.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teacher!Stiles and Student!Derek + smut
> 
> Warning: Derek is 17 here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The desk scratches noisily against the floor, making an ugly, metallic screech ring through the air. It weaves into the quiet grunts and moans that are sneaking around the knuckles Derek’s got stuffed in his mouth and the wet sound of his hips  _pounding_ into the student’s ass.  
  


Stiles knocks his legs against Derek’s, forcing him to spread his legs as far as they can go given the denim pooled around his ankles. “Derek…” the teacher croons gently into the student’s pink ear, kissing the tip gently, “Have you learned your lesson yet?”  
  


Derek’s hand trembles against the desk, white knuckles curling tighter against the edge as he tries to catch his breath. Not that Stiles is allowing him the chance when every thrust is knocking the air out of Derek’s lungs in gasps and half-curses. “Yessss.” The student groans, pressing his forehead into the wood and working his ass back into Stiles’ cock.  
  


Although he’s certain that Derek’s cry was rooted in passion rather than an agreement that he has indeed understood why he is being punished. Stiles runs his hands up Derek’s sides, enjoying how the smooth skin feels under his palms before he pushes the boy’s shirts up more.   
  


The wide expanse of skin coupled with the heated look Derek throws him over one hickey covered shoulder sets Stiles’ blood on fire. It isn’t fair how a 17 year old like Derek can make that face at Stiles and make him loose all his reasoning. Stiles feels more and more helpless every time they do this, every time Derek somehow manipulates the situation so that they end up alone together.  
  


And there’s only end result of them being alone together in the same room.  
  


Stiles pushes Derek harder into the desk, pulling back to watch his slick cock thrust in and out of the tight hole. He slows his pace, hips rocking in small circles, grinding into Derek in a way that he knows that the boy loves and hates in equal parts.  
  


Sure enough, Derek begins to buck and arch back against the hands holding him in place and starts to beg, “Please. Oh please. More. I need more.”  
  


With a quick glance at the door, the paper taped haphazardly over the small window and the lock twisted close, Stiles pulls Derek’s body up against his. Derek’s sweaty back writhes against his chest, one hand reaching back to grip Stiles’ hips in a tight grip. “ _Shit_!” Derek whines, head rolling back against the taller man’s shoulder until he’s panting into Stiles’ neck.  
  


Stiles shivers, feeling hot and cold tingles racing down his spine. “Tell me what you want.” He whispers, one hand trailing  _so close_ to Derek’s bobbing cock but still too far. Stiles taps and traces circles into the smooth groove of Derek’s hip, hips still rolling slowly in and out. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”  
  


This is wrong in so many ways, all of them keeping Stiles awake some nights with worry until he’s curled up in his bathroom, shaking and panicking with the bitter after taste of bile on his tongue. But how is it that something so wrong,  _so damned wrong_ , can make him feel so  _right_  and  _good_?  
  


Curling his second hand around Derek’s jaw tenderly, Stiles presses kisses to the younger man’s face whereever he can before he asks again, “Derek. Tell me please.”  
  


“You.” the teenager sobs, lashes wet and heavy as he blinks up at Stiles. “I want you. Please touch me, let me come, please. I’ll never do it again.”  
  


He smiles at that, biting down on Derek’s chin before murmuring, “Liar.” Derek has made that promise before, that he won’t try to pull anything in school, and failed every time so far. Stiles is far too gone on the boy 5 years his junior if he chooses to punish him like this, where he stands to loose just as much if not more if they get caught. Far too gone.  
  


Stiles feeds Derek two of his fingers, rubbing against the wet tongue and sharp edges of his teeth while his hips go back to their previously hard rhythm. Derek’s yell is muffled but still loud, body immediately tensing and then working back against Stiles.  
  


Squeezing his eyes shut, Stiles focuses on the  _tight, hot, good_ feel of Derek around his cock and how he wishes that he wasn’t wearing a condom so that he could come inside of Derek. The desire to ruin Derek inside to out has only gotten stronger as time has passed, along with the desire to pull out afterwards, sink to his knees, hold Derek open and  _watch_ his come  _drip_ down the teenager’s trembling legs.   
  


He wants to wreck Derek, break him so bad that no one will be able to put him back together. No one except Stiles that is. “Stiles…” Derek moans, short nails digging into the older man’s hip. “I’m… almost…I need…”  
  


Wrapping his hand around Derek’s cock, Stiles gives the teenager the release that he needs with a murmured, “Do it. Come for me.” And Derek does.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The click of the front door made Stiles tip his head back on the sofa so that he could see Derek step in. “Hey you.” The man greeted, shooting an upside down smile at his husband. Derek grunted, tossing his keys into the bowl and his bag down on the table. 

Stiles kept his attention on Derek, watching him push his shoes off before he stepped into the living room. The gaunt look on Derek’s face made a quick pang shoot through Stiles’ heart. Clearly it had been a long day at work. Hopefully Derek looked so tired because his presentation had gone well instead of terribly. 

Stiles didn’t budge an inch when Derek plopped down into the loveseat and half sprawled in the younger man’s lap. Left hand still hanging off the sofa back, Stiles gently pulled Derek’s glasses off his nose.

“Welcome home.” He teased gently, wriggling his foot against Derek’s arm in the hopes that maybe if he got into a more comfortable position, his foot wouldn’t fall asleep in the next 15 minutes. Well, he ought to have known better than to sit with his foot up on his knee when Derek had stumbled over with his ‘need cuddles now’ look on. “How was your day?” Stiles asked, sliding the glasses into Derek’s jacket pocket.

Derek sighed, fingers pulling on his tie knot with closed eyes. “Terrible.” The tired tone made Stiles want to coo sympathetically, but he didn’t. Just barely. Instead, he made a quiet noise before he let a finger trace the dark bags under Derek’s closed eyes. Which quickly turned into enjoying the rare sensation of Derek’s stubble free-cheeks under his hand.

“How terrible are we talking?” Stiles asked, glancing up at the TV before he looked around for the remote to mute the show. But the remote was no where in sight. Which meant that one of them was sitting on it. Oh well. Good thing he’d kept the volume on low anyways. 

Derek wriggled in his place, his hair tickling the inside of Stiles’ bent thigh, making the younger man twitch and bite his lip to keep from kicking his leg out. “They liked the pitch.” Derek answered, carelessly dropping his tie on the carpet, putting both legs up on the sofa arm. “They asked me all kinds of questions.”

Stiles blinked down in confusion, “How is that terrible?”

Wry eyes peeked up at him before Derek replied, “For 40 minutes.”

Making a face, Stiles succinctly replied, “Yeesh.”

“Exactly.”


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many sides to Derek and Stiles likes them all. Except the angry, grouchy, sulky and stupidly-bullheaded sides - those ones he doesn’t like. Other than that, Stiles has a general like for all of Derek’s sides.  
  


He loves the determined chef part who tries his best to make something and makes faces when plating it up. He’s especially enamored with the book nerd side who is content in browsing a book store for hours, hands sliding over cracked book spines like a long lost lover. And of course there’s the dry, sarcastic asshole who loves making pithy comments at reality shows, soap operas and B-grade monster movies. Stiles  _really_  loves that part of Derek.  
  


This one is new however. Derek’s lounging on the bed, their bed thank you very much, reading a book while wearing his comfortable sweats, gray wifebeater and thick rimmed glasses. Stylish, black glasses that are doing things to Stiles’ and his insides.  _Things_.  
  


Stiles slides over next to his boyfriend, curling around him like an affectionate kitten before he reaches out to fiddle with Derek’s glasses. The older man sighs, looks away from the book in his hands, turns to him and asks, “What?” in a resigned manner.  
  


Grinning, Stiles pushes the glasses up Derek’s nose with a finger. “I didn’t know you wore glasses!” Could he make an old man joke here? Easily. But  _should_ he, that is the question at hand. Because Derek is kind of really rocking the whole glasses look. Like seriously.   
  


“Just for reading.” Derek mumbles, eyes darting away self consciously. Well then, don’t mind Stiles always keeping a book in front of Derek’s nose because  _damn_. He wants those glasses to be a permanent fixture on Derek Hale’s face.   
  


There’s a wary look suddenly directed his way and it makes Stiles blink, fingers busy in their study of the frame and how it feels. “Don’t even think about it.” Derek warns.  
  


Stiles blinks innocently, actual innocence for once because he’s not sure what Derek’s talking about. “Think about what?” Did Derek just suddenly develop the ability to read minds and hear Stiles pondering if he can convince his boyfriend to sex him up, or vice versa, while wearing just the glasses?   
  


Derek gives him the driest look ever (trademark and patent pending), ignoring the way Stiles is now all but draped over him as he paws at the frame, plucking them off Derek’s nose to slide them on. Stiles can’t help but feel a tiny bit relieved when he realizes that the number isn’t too high. “Think about making nerd jokes or geek jokes or whatever joke you’re thinking.”  
  


“Derek Hale!” Stiles pretends that he’s insulted and places a hand over his heart. “I am shocked and appalled by your accusation! Did you really think that I’d tease you because you wore reading glasses?”  
  


“Yes.” His boyfriend answers immediately.  
  


Blinking at Derek, Stiles shrugs and returns the glasses to their original position. They look better on Derek anyways. “You know me too well.”  
  


He gets a warm pat on the shoulder before Derek raises his book up again. Only this time, it’s angled so that Stiles can see it as well. The younger man glances at the top of the page and grunts, “No more French Revolution stuff?”  
  


Stiles peeks up at Derek as he waits for an answer. “Needed a change.” Derek admits, turning the page.   
  


“From people being guillotined to people being shot for being royalty. I can get that.” Stiles teases, ducking the fingers that attempt to flick his ear. “You’re such a nerd.” His voice is nothing but fond as he presses his cheek into Derek’s shoulder and lazily reads along about the Tzars. 

**Author's Note:**

> [on tumblr](http://chaoticwaltz.tumblr.com)


End file.
